


Something Stupid

by therune



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune
Summary: Kink-meme fill - https://dishonored-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/446.html?thread=540606#cmt540606Corvo/Daud/Jessamine---Crack and FluffI don't know why I want this, but I want an AU where Daud doesn't assassinate Jessamine for whatever reason and instead this OT3 happens, again for whatever reason.Basically I just want fluffy b.s. with this three all smooshed together and I don't ever really know why.I prefer more PG-13, but I am open to smut as long as it's nothing too weird.





	1. Chapter 1

When Burrows came to Daud with a contract for the first time, it was for a noble who had opposed Empress Kaldwin's reform of the school system. She had fought for a compulsive education for every child until at least the age of 13. He would have lost half his weavers then. 

The second is a similair affair, dispatching a political enemy.

Not a year goes by without a contract. Not regularly, but steady nontheless. 

Then it's a watch captain, by all accounts a good and honorable man. An overseer. A nobleman. A visiting diplomat.

So when Burrows comes - never in person, no, when his agent drops a letter with a request for a meeting with yet another agent - to Daud with the biggest job of his career, worth enough money to get himself and his men out of Dunwall, past the blockade and to wherever they want, he accepts. Or at least, he doesn't refuse.

Kill the mother and take the child. Daud doesn't have many scruples left, but children are the one line he will never cross. He still remembers how it was to be stolen away from his own mother, to be taken by strange men, sold into a dark and dangerous life. 

He still plans, pours over maps, different routes, stolen communication, guard rosters and everything he can get his hands on. 

And just before the Royal Protector is sent off to the other isles, he leaves without the Whalers. (He still takes his blade, he's not stupid). Leaping over roofs, crossing borders with the Outsider's gift that would be impossible for others, he reaches the Tower. 

Daud has spent agonizing hours pondering what to say. Introducing himself? Assuring he comes in peace? Spilling the secret of his employer? He tugs the whaler mask securely into place. Showing his face means that he doesn't care, that he won't leave survivors and witnesses.   
He briefly closes his eyes and hears a whisper in his ear, the Outsider whispering in a strange, old and forgotten language. Golden shapes wander around the palace, flecks of light in the night. There's a small one, the princess. And beside her, that must be the Empress and the Protector. 

He tries to cinvince himself that he's done harder, stupider things before, but nothing comes quite close. Breaking into the academy was more difficult, taking in street urchins and somehow without knowing how giving them part of his powers is definitely almost as stupid.   
He appears on the balcony with a flicker of reality and smoothes down his coat. Then he knocks. 

The Lord Protector is with a blade at his throat in the blink of an eye.   
Yes, definitely stupid. 

"What do you want?" a sharp voice asks. The Empress' eyes are hard as diamonds.   
"I mean no harm," he says, tries to keep his voice even. The sword presses closer and the Lord Protector grips his lapel tighter, getting ready to strike, body almost vibrating with withheld energy.  
"I bring a warning, your Grace. There's a conspiracy, plans to kill you from within the palace."  
Then the Lord Protector kicks at his legs, forcing him to his knees, never loosening his grip.   
"I hope you have brought proof," the Empress says coldly.   
"There's an envelope in my coat pocket," Daud offers. The sword presses tighter, forcing him to arch his back to get away from it until he is bent at an uncomfortable angle.  
A hand opens his coat and it's somehow this action that seems the most dangerous to him.   
Then a gasp.   
Another woman might have asked 'how?', 'why?', might have declared this as fake, claiming that this couldn't be true.   
Instead, the Empress asks "when did Burrows come to you?"  
"Two month ago," Daud admits.   
"Burrows?" the Lord Protector snarls.   
"Why didn't you fulfill your contract? Did the Knife of Dunwall suddenly become a devout citizen?"  
So she did recognize him. He didn't think he was worthy her attention.   
"I don't deal with children," he says, hoping it will satisfy her.   
"It was stupid coming to the Princess' chambers then," the Lord Protector says.  
"It was stupid," Daud agrees, "but I couldn't think of another way that didn't end with me being killed instantly."

The eyes of the Lord Protector are cold and merciless. Daud understands, after all he is an intruder coming to the Tower and the two most important people, undetected, armed. After all, he is a murderer. 

"Do you believe him, Jess?"   
"Not yet," she admits, "but this is...a lot to think about."  
Daud helpfully doesn't point out that he could have waited another day and killed both the Empress and her child while the Lord Protector was away on business. But he doesn't have to.  
"I suppose he could have come tomorrow instead, when Corvo will be away," a small voice says.  
How could he forget the princess?   
She crawls out from under the bed, more fascinated with him than afraid of him.   
The Empress clutches her child close. 

Of course this is the moment where it all goes to shit.   
He feels a shift in the air, a tingling sensation in his hand. He knows what it means...and that he has a knife to his throat in front of his supposed marks.

"Billie, stop!" he shouts.

He should have known that she would follow. It's what he would have done, and they are too alike for both their own goods.   
Billie is a ghost in red, glass in the mask shining with the light from the lamps inside and she aims her crossbow at the Empress. 

In seconds, the Empress steps forth, infront of her daughter. The Lord Protector drags Daud to his feet with a surprising amount of strength, spins behind his back and forces him to take a step backwards with the blade cutting into his throat. 

"Release him," Billie says, voice trembling with fury.   
"Lower your weapon," the Lord Protector demands. 

"It's okay, Billie," Daud adds, willing her to surrender. He knows she won't , though, he knows her to well. He taught her, so he knows what will happen next. She will disappear, using the confusion to reappear behind her target and go in for the kill. He has to be faster. 

He hadn't planned on revealing everything to the Empress, but what else can he do? The Lord Protector's sword jerks towards where his throat, where he just was, as he steps into nothingness and then back, in front of Billie, blocking her shot and pulls. His mark glows and she stumbles towards him, not expecting him to use his powers on her.  
She curses when he places his hands on her, one blocking the firing mechanism, the other holding her elbow. 

"No killing tonight, that's one contract we won't fulfill," he says.  
Under his breath, he adds a small 'please'. 

She nods. "We'll talk about this, old man," she promises and is gone in the next second. He can feel her, she is just underneath the balcony, hidden from view. One of his favorite tricks as well.

The Lord Protector's weapon is digging into his back, threatening him with just a little more force.

"Explain yourself," he demands.

"That was my second in command. I didn't exactly inform my people of my decision not to go through with the contract," at the press of the sword he adds, "it was safer with no one knowing. I didn't think she'd follow me.

"I think you should go over everything, in great detail," the Empress suggests, her tone making it clear that this isn't a suggestion at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Billie's retreat, the Empress, Daud and Corvo Attano formulate a plan.

In the end the Lord Protector lets him go but doesn't sheathe his weapon, but that's okay. Knives are part of his usual business negotiations, too.

“The Spymaster contacted me a while back about a job,” he starts, rubbing his hand over his throat, feeling the leather of his gloves become tacky. He hadn't even noticed the cut. Maybe that's why Billie... no, he had to focus.

“On me,” the Empress states.

“Yes,” he nods and looks into her eyes. He owes her that much. Her gaze is cold and calculating, so different from the posters and statues that are spread all over the Isles. 

“Why didn't you take it? Surely the reward was to be substantial,” The Lord Protector asks. 

“Thought about it. Coin was enough to get me and my men out of Dunwall and escape the plague. And it was challenging, but it's not like that's the first time I've had to break into the tower.”

Daud can basically hear the Lord Protector's blood boil, anger barely restrained behind clenched teeth and fists. 

“But instead you came here to warn me. And your friend followed you and then she vanished into the air like a nightmare, same as you did.”

“What do you want me to say?” All the answers he had carefully prepared flee from his tongue. “I'm a murderer, hired by Dunwall's elite to kill Dunwall's elite, murdering for one noble one day before killing him on the next. If you ask your abbey, I'm a sinner a hundred times over. Can't come that much worse.”  
Of course it could, but he's not telling them that. Then he closes his eyes, the Outsider whispers in his ear and he knows that his eyes, when he opens them again, are filled with the blackness of the void through and through. Normally the masks takes care of that issue, but his heresy is plain to see, on the skin of his hand and now in his face. 

“The Outsider,” the Empress gasps.

“I met him,” Daud summarises the story as quickly as he can, not wanting to think back on the day of his greatest loss and blinks, his eyes returning to their normal stormy gray, “and he marked me. This gaze and the vanishing are ...abilities he gave me.”

“That explains your reputation” the Lord Protector concludes. Maybe he's relieved to see that Daud is only better because of the Outsider's intervening schemes, that he couldn't beat Corvo in a fair fight, that he's still better. Maybe he's horrified to see what monster came crawling into their home. Daud has never been that good at reading people.

“We can use it,” the Empress interrupts and starts pacing the length of the room. That's... refreshingly ruthless. Tactical. Strategic, using every advantage to drive your opponent to their knees. Daud is impressed.

“Who else is in on this?” she asks, not even looking at him, mind furiously working on a solution.

“Burrows is the head, but he has the backing of a substantial numbers of nobles. Half the Parliament is in his pocket, or at least willing to vote on whatever the Pendleton twats urge them to do. Speaking of deep pockets, he must have a sponsor, someone obscenely rich to finance all of this.”

Is it a trick of the light or did the Lord Protector just try to hide a grin? Right, there was that one time he removed one of the Pendletons from a party...through a window, if Daud remembers correctly. 

“Politics, finance – how much further does this web reach?” the Empress muses, but it's not like she waits for a reply, still pacing, head bowed in thought. 

“What was the plan for...after?” the Lord Protector asks.

“The plan was to act” - he's been about to say 'off her majesty' but has to restrict his tongue, leave the back alleys and streets out of his language, has to present his case rationally - “once you are away. After your death Burrows would step in as Lord Regent until the princess would be found. Then he, or I guess one of his lackeys, maybe a noble family with some royal blood, would continue to rule until the princess becomes of age.”

She's still in the room, he remembers with a hot shock. Curled on the bed, basically hiding behind the Lord Protector's back and a stuffed animal. 

“'Would be found' indicates that she was to be lost,” the Lord Protector says with gritted teeth. Daud just knows that the man's itching to complete the picture he'd painted with Daud's blood on his throat earlier.

“Removed from the palace, brought to the Pendletons for safekeeping until some heroic effort would lead to her recovery.”

“And that hero to be rewarded, I suppose,” the Empress rejoins the conversation. 

“I suspect as much,” Daud admits

“There are more involved parties to consider. If the goal was indeed to establish a new rule with my daughter as the figurehead, there would need to be backing from the Abbey to bless her reign. A new Lord Protector to watch over her. A new Regent if Burrows is to remain as spymaster in his web or a new Spymaster if he is to take up the mantle himself. With the Parliament at his beck and call...it's a good plan.”

Even the Lord Protector looks mildly shocked. 

“It's a well planned coup,” she explains, “covered by all angles. Enough strands in his web to strangle his enemies and to keep the allies tied together because if one of them falls, everyone gets dragged down with them.”

Other men would wonder why she isn't scared or enraged, but Daud recognizes that look. Being scared or angry or sad or all of them combined wouldn't help her in this situation, so she's not. It's what he does when he is faced with situations like that. 

“How much time would we have if you went through with it?” the Lord Protector asks finally, sword lowered at last.

“2 weeks. By that time you'd be leaving Serkonos, having found help or nothing from the Duke.”

There is silence after he speaks, the others recognzing how little time they would have left if things had been different. 

“Do you have any proof?” the Empress finally asks. 

Daud shakes his head. “The contract was made through agents, all too readily disposed of should the need arise. In the end there's my word against his and no court would ever take me up on it.”

“The heretic Knife of Dunwall against its revered Spymaster... you'd be dead – and we as well – before anything sensible could be done.”

“We have nothing but your word now,” the Lord Protector reminds them. 

Daud tries very hard to be stoic. Stable. Lead by example. Show discipline. He's an assassin, not a butcher, capable of restraint. Subtlety. And although he wouldn't go as far as to call himself refined, he likes to think he's more than a regular vulgar cutthroat. Unfortunately, at heart, he's a little shit, born on a ship during a thunderstorm, raised by a witch and marked by a god who delighted in his antics for many years.   
He makes direct eye contact as he pulls off his glove dramatically, clenches his hand and the Outsider's mark blazes on his skin in brilliant colors. Already the Lord Protector lunges forward, but the world slows, turns gray, all the sounds crash over Daud like a wave. He looks for the best way to make his statement and he's certain that the Outsider is watching and loving this. Daud disappears in a cloud of ash, reappears on the chandelier and looks amused as the sword swung by the Lord Protector hits nothing but the tile on the floor. 

Inside, he feels the burning sensation of overexertion, warning him that these tricks are taking their toll later, but he ignores the voice of reason and caution as he has done often enough. Again he looks with the void's gaze, knowing that he resembles the Outsider once more as he calls out “I'm up here.”  
To his amusement, the Lord Protector looks angry and has his pistol drawn and aimed before the Empress places a hand on his weapon and lowers it for him.

“If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead,” he states.   
He's bluffing.... in a way. There's a reason why he's supposed to wait before the bodyguard is gone. Corvo is one of the, if not the finest sowrdsman in the isles. Words about his feats have reached every corner of Dunwall, are whispered in pubs and in the back alleys, runaway children telling tales around the fire as they warm themselves.   
“Did you know Corvo Attano once defeated 20 men in 5 minutes? And then he took out his sword!”  
“I hear the Outsider checks his closet for Corvo Attano.”  
Exaggerated as those may be, Daud isn't sure he could take the man in hand to hand combat and come out unscathed. Come out on top? Yes, but maybe worse for wear. 

“Daud, I have a mission for you.” She doesn't plead. She simply informs him of the fact and Daud realizes that he has accepted without thinking.   
“I need more information on the connected nobles. The financier would be best, but any name you can find would be of tremendous help. Corvo, your travel plans must look unchanged, but only 'look'.”

He nods. Nothing will happen to the Empress in the next two weeks, not before Daud is supposed to make his move. They can't let anyone know that they know, so they have to appear normal. But letting Corvo go is out of the question. 

The man walks over the corner of the room where a giant globe sits. He turns it, inspecting the route his ship will take. 

“If I get off at Sandford, I can return to Dunwall within a day. If the captain could be persuaded to go on with his journey, no one would notice anything until I'm supposed to reach Dabokva. By then, it will become obvious that I'm not on board, but until news can reach here... two weeks should do it.”

Sandford is a village on a nearby small island – the only village, in fact. It's a favourite port for a number of smugglers, using the last stop to transport goods from their ship to the island and then using small skiffs to reach the main land while the big ships arrive at Dunwall with squeaky clean papers and goods. It should be easy to find passage back to Dunwall.   
The bodyguard is clever, Daud has to admit. Muscles and brains, it seems. 

Already he's working on his own plans. He has some men posted in the more affluent districts. Finding dirt on nobles is practically second nature to most of them. But there's still the matter with Billie. Daud just hopes that he will have a chance to talk to her before she talks to the Whalers at the headquarter. He should probably move altogether, seeing as how Burrows knew where to find him. 

Still he's perched on the chandelier, realizing it must look odd. But he can't imagine that any of the other people in the room care, except maybe for the bodyguard who still sends grim glances up to him now and then. 

“Here,” the Empress offers him a scrap of parchment, ink still drying. He drops down to accept it. “A list of nobles who opposed me rather prominently. I'm sure you can start with one of them.”

Daud can't stand mysteries and riddles, so he's doubly motivated to get to the bottom of this. There's not even a choice anymore. By revealing what he knows, he has offered his help. There's no turning back. This went quickly from warning the Empress to aiding her with all he knows, has and is. He guesses that deep down he has known that there would be no return, not after this. How did he go from assassin to what he has become within the last hour? The introspection is interrupted by the Lord Protector stepping closer. Clearly a man used to being taller than everyone he faces and how imposing that can be. Pity that it doesn't work on Daud even if he has to lay his head back to look him properly in the eyes. He hasn't been afraid of people taller and physically stronger than him in years, not after he got the mark.   
“How can I contact you?”

Clearly also a man of few words. He doesn't say that Daud is not to return to the palace, that he is not welcome and not to approach the Empress by himself. That he will deal with her only through the bodyguard himself. But he doesn't need to, Daud has heard the message loud and clear. 

“Ponderhill Gardens. On the west there are apartment buildings. Place a lantern on the roof of the tallest one and I will send word of where to meet.”

It's not too far from the nobles' quarters so his whalers will be nearby anyway. The Lord Protector isn't pleased, but Daud's not here for that anyway. 

“I think that concludes our business for today,” the Empress says with finality. Daud feels like he should probably bow before he goes, but doesn't. Instead he puts on the mask. The sun is barely starting to rise, sending a pale strip of light to the horizon.   
“I should thank you,” she begins, “for potentially saving my child and myself. You shall be handsomely rewarded after this business is done.”

Not knowing what to say he inclines his head and then nods briefly. The mask and whaler gear are trademark of his gang so others know to stay clear, to be afraid. It also masks their stature, making it more difficult to identify them, giving the illusion of there being more than there really are. The blank lenses only help to make them appear more inhuman. So who leaves the Tower, stealing back to the Flooded district is just a whaler. Not the Knife of Dunwall who isn't supposed to come to the palace for a few more days. Daud is extra careful to make his way as hard to trace as possible. He may have the Outsider's gift on his side, but Burrows isn't spymaster for nothing. The man has eyes and ears everywhere and he knows where Daud lives. Maybe Daud has become too complacent, too confident in his reputation. Maybe he needs to change.   
Later.   
Now off to find Billie and do some damage control.


	3. Chapter 3

He's barely made it to the Flooded District when his powers give out and he almost falls to his death. His ability to travel distances in the blink of an eye fails two thirds of the way through and instead of safely in the middle of the roof, he appears at the edge, feeling disoriented and dizzy. Daud hasn't felt that way for years, not since he first got the Outsider's blessing. It's only the years of training that save his life, making him fall forwards to his knees instead of staggering backward. His breath rattles behind the mask. He feels like he's suddenly 19 years again, making his mark on the world: hiding behind a mask, clinging to powers he can barely understand, and facing a challenge so huge he can barely comprehend it. 

Flexing his hand, resisting the urge to rip off the glove and make sure that it's still there, that the mark is still a part of him, Daud recalls all the tricks back at the Palace. They had served their purpose – demonstrating his usefulness, giving credibility to his cause and riling up the bodyguard – but he regrets having exerted himself nontheless. He's far from harmless even without his powers, but they're a safety net he is loathe to miss. Panting, Daud rips off the mask and takes in air in big gulps. It's Dunwall, so the air reeks of fish. He gets to his feet and staggers to relative safety before crashing at his original target. The weight of his decisions rivals the physical strain he has put himself under. 

“What in the shit was that back there?”  
Of course it's Billie. Daud can't actually tell if she followed him or if she was waiting for him. What does that say about his current state, he wonders.   
“There's been a change of plans,” he announces plainly, wishing he hadn't taken off the mask now. But it's _Billie_ and he owes her that much at least. Looking her straight in the eyes, he shakes his head. “That's a contract we won't be fulfilling.” She's too smart for bullshit, too much like himself to be comforted by hollow words.   
“It's the choice of a lifetime! The biggest job we've ever done! Finally, we can make them feel it. We can make them bleed, Daud, make them pay, and now you give up?”  
She paces, her fury making her arms jerk as she empasizes every hate-filled syllable.  
“Any noble we offed, they replace a week after. We've killed and killed and nothing ever changed. But this time – this time they would feel it. They will pay for what they've done!”

He has to admit that he is taken aback. Billie is not prone to outbursts like that. She's shaking with rage, her fists clenched tightly. Clearly, there's something more to this. If only his head didn't feel like being repeatedly rammed with a whaling ship. He needs to do this right. Find the correct words, because this could go wrong so, so quickly. He feel like he's losing Billie to something he can't grasp. It's strange to feel this uncertain with her – they are more alike than they both openly admit, and most of the time it's like she knows what he's thinking and he knows how she will act. They don't shout, they snark. Quick with their knives, quick on their feet, quick thinkers, always ready to improvise. She teasingly calls him 'old man' or 'big knife', in turn he refers to her as 'brat'. But suddenly there's this distance between them. It feels like she might be in Tyvia, she feels so far away. It's fair, he supposes, there is a lot she doesn't know about this. But this point in time is bad. It's crucial they stay together. He can't lose Billie. 

“This job is too big, Billie.”  
“We could do it – we've both been to the Palace tonight, Daud!”  
“Not too difficult, too big. No one should have to kill an empress. Or steal their daughter and give her to peple with even less morals than the person who hired us for the job. We don't deal in children, Billie.”  
It's not strictly true. Lots of kids had gotten hurt in the aftermath of their kills, turned orphan overnight. But he won't go after a child directly, never abduct one. Not like he was abducted. 

“Daud,”

“I know. This isn't like me, not like us. We've never backed down from a fight, but that's not what this is about. I'm done taking orders from Burrows. That man's poison. We can't be responsible for killing an empire.”

Billie does nothing but breathe.  
He walks closer, both unsteady on their feet. 

She snarls.  
“Look at you. You're weak, old man. Have the years turned you soft? You had the chance today. _I_ had it, but you stopped me!”  
No, no, this is all going wrong. 

“What good would it do?”

“Who cares about good? We're assassins, Daud!”

“Killing an empire doesn't solve any of our problems. The Plague ravages this city, the weepers gets closer and closer, the price of elixir has doubled since last month – we lost two men just this week.”

That gets her to pause. Felix had gotten infected and run into his own knife rather than risk spreading it. And Gadeo... captured by Overseers. Daud had felt his death, their bond severed. 

“Dunwall is a ship heading towards a waterfall. We're doing no one any favors by killing the captain. Either we jump ship and hope we don't drown, or we take the rudder for ourselves and turn it around.”

She takes a step towards him, but there's still violence in the line of her body.

“I can't lose anyone anymore,” he admits, perhaps even to himself for the first time. His first priority are the Whalers, always have been, and the Plague as well as the methods employed by the government threaten every single one of them.  
“Please, Billie, I can't lose you.”

Her face is unreadable behind the whaler's mask, while he doesn't dare imagine what his must show. Two whalers in red facing each other, both having shown a side previously unknown to the other. Her rage, his worry... both too proud to admit to those faults. 

“I wanted to be a boat captain, you know,” she begins, voice flat and even, “before I met you.”  
Her hands go to her hood, push it back, before going for the straps of the mask.  
“But then I met you. I had never seen anyone stronger. Then, I wanted to be like you.”  
She takes off the mask and the disappointment he sees feels like a knife to his throat.  
“But you're not, are you? You're not that powerful. I was just too desperate and wanted to believe you were. You're not strong. And if you're not strong, then what am I? I'm just as powerless as when I met you. Still the same broken kid inside.”

“Bullshit.”  
That gets her attention.  
“You weren't weak when I met you. You followed an assassin to his lair, which is something the entire guard can't do. You evaded a whole city that was out for your blood and that was before you even met me. Billie, you're possibly the strongest person I know.”  
He holds out his hand, the marked one, by instinct.  
“You were with me when we went after the soft nobles, when life was easy. Now you're going to run because it gets tough? That's not the Billie I know.”  
For just a second, he sees her as she had been. Half-starved, wanted posters not doing her justice, hunted for the murder of a duke's son, and when he stared her down, bloody knife in hand, she had just stared back. She may be older now – 10 years have gone so fast – but she still has that spine of steel. Unbent, unbroken and willing to beat that into anybody's head.

She grabs his hand and hauls him close.   
“I guess you need someone to watch your back, old man,” she says, voice muffled by his coat.   
He probably does.


	4. Chapter 4

It's easier or at least shorter to convince the other Whalers. In the end it boils down to “Fuck Burrows” and when Daud and Billie are united, no one speaks out against them. 

“Are we getting paid at least?” Rinaldo asks, as they are in Daud's office, pouring over maps and assigning routes. No Whalers goes anywhere alone – Daud had insisted – and they need to be twice as careful. Daud is looking at possible hideouts. They will have to move, sooner rather than later. Maybe an old whale oil factory...most of them are empty due to the shortage and they wouldn't stand out in their outfits too much. 

“Double,” Billie says with a smirk. 

Actually, they have no idea except “handsome reward” but that's a question for another day. The others mutter, sounding satisfied. 

“Maybe we can afford a place with a roof,” Perkins suggests, pointing to the grey sky visible through a roof which is more hole than wood. 

Her grin falls as Daud replies “Excellent idea. Take Rulfio and scout possible locations. I expect reports on at least 6 suitable alternatives by midnight.”

“What did I do?” Rulfio whines.

 

 

It's like a scene from one of the trashy romance novels that keep reappearing in their headquarters despite everybody claiming that they would never read such drivel. The Empress is flanked by her guards; uniforms freshly laundered and starched, helmets and swords glistening in the sun. She bids farewell to the Lord Protector as they stand on the pier. Gracefully, she offers him her hand and he accepts and bows before climbing aboard the small boat that will take him to the ship. The “Kendrick's Flight” will travel to Tyvia first, then Morley and finally Serkonos. In six days it will reach Dabokva. But the Lord Protector will never really leave Gristol. 

Dodge says he was getting misty-eyed himself, overwhelmed with the emotional impact, the gravitas and quiet dignity of Jessamine Kaldwin, sending off her most trusted confidant as the Empire's last chance. Most of the others have learned to tune him out after a minute, not bothering to listen to his endless flowery descriptions of everything, from the reflection in a raindrop to the half-removed old poster that's close to illegible. 

“What did you see of Burrows?” Daud asks for the third time, hoping it would lead to an actual answer and not another impromptu poem on the waves rushing to the shore.   
“He wasn't there in person, but I spotted his spies near the tavern and two more from the carriage. The gulls were wailing, as the ship left Dunwall, braving the sea and endless dangers to-”

“Thank you, Dodge,” Daud interrupts him. 

Dodge clearly wants to continue, but shuts up after Galia thrusts her elbow into his side. He is also most reluctant to take off Daud's red coat, even if it is just for laundry, like Galia informed him is sorely needed. Dodge is of the same build as his master, if a bit taller and thus serves as his stand-in. He goes out as Daud and makes sure that he is seen while Daud instead attends to his other business.

 

Meticulously, Daud goes through the list Jessamine had given him on their first meeting. He has to admire her more and more. She is clearly intelligent and keeps her enemies close. The list is ordered from the most likely traitor to the least and she has been right so far. Daud realizes that he wouldn't have minded working for her, that doing this – possibly saving an empire – was finally making a difference. He hopes that Billie will realize this as well, that affecting things could mean making the world a better place instead of hurting it in an act of revenge. For the first time in years, he feels good about he is doing.


	5. Chapter 5

“I'm heading out to the Estate district,” he informed Thomas and headed out in workman's clothing. It had been some time since he had to hide in plain sight, but the circumstances made it necessary. And the Plague helped since nobody wanted to get to close to anybody else and was happy if nobody paid them any attention in turn. 

“Primabelle Ford, widow to Duke Langston Ford” was next on his list. He had heard of her but she had never employed him nor had he taken any contract out on her. At first glance, she was a young socialite who had married an old, rich aristocrat who had died predictably soon after the marriage and she was all too glad to leave dealing with her husband's estate and business to his lawyers. But if she was on Jessamine's list, then she was most likely dangerous. 

Hoping that Dodge maintained his delicate balance of being seen as Daud, but not being too obvious to spot, Daud entered Ford's home through the servant's entrance. It was almost laughably easy, but with most of the staff laid off, as he had learned through gossip and eavesdropping in what had to be Dunwall's last beauty parlor that had remained open, it was not very difficult to avoid the eyes of the cook and the sole maid that was complaining about her increased workload.   
“And she fired Annabeth, can you believe it? She always did the salon, the dining room and the library. Now I have to do that as well! I only have two arms, Markus, it's just not possible!”  
“At least you still have a job,” the cook remarked, “that's more than most can say at this time. It is odd though. She said she had to find a way to spend less money with the plague and all, but isn't most of the old Langston's business in Tyvian lumber? They don't even have the plague up north.”  
That was interesting. Nowadays, when people were fired, it was because of one of two reasons: fear of being infected or loss of funds. Maybe an employee had shown signs of the plague? Or just coughed and it was a big overreaction?

There were bound to be more answers upstairs, in Ford's private rooms and study. 

He used his powers to reach the first floor, grateful for both the enormous chandeliers and people's tendency to never look up.   
Daud looked through the Void's gaze and found that there was only one person on the whole floor, likely Ford herself. 

Silently he made his way upstairs, switching his attention between Ford and the servants below. It wouldn't do to be discovered by one of them because he was too focused on his target. He wasn't 17 anymore and had paid for mistakes like that already. A regular assassin would have headed to the bedroom, would have hidden among the luxurious furniture, would have waited for his prey to come to them, dispatched her quietly. For an air-headed widow, it wouldn't have been a terrible plan. But Daud was anything but regular and he suspected that Ford was like him in that regard. He did enter the bedroom, noted the splendor – it didn't look like she needed to save money by firing servants, but enough shallow aristocrats had held on to their riches beyond reason – and crept out of the window, balanced onto the ledge until he stood before the study, making sure that his shadow couldn't be seen from inside. Daud observed with the power of the void. Ford was at a desk that would have dwarfed any woman of her petite stature, but her presence brimmed with a sense of power and command that made her seem right at home. Papers were spread out, but not in a chaotic fashion. She was writing dilligently in a ledger. 

He opened the window and saw his opportunity. Several bottles of liquor were on a silver tray to her left and she drained a glass full of something doubtlessly highly-alcoholic and expensive in one go. She wouldn't be the first person to pass out at their desk. Silently, with motions practised a hundred times before, he loaded up a sleep dart. The green fluid seemed to glow in the glass compartment and then he fired. Ford's head hit the wood with a dull thud. Quickly, Daud checked to see if the servants had been alarmed by the noise, but nothing seemed to indicate that. Then he entered the study. First, he searched her belt and used the key he found to lock the heavy doors. There was also a door to a small bathroom, but the room itself didn't have any other exits. Having made sure that he could work without interruption, he set to work. Carefully, he memorized the position of the papers on the desk and other areas of interest. She wasn't to know that he had ever been there. Satisfied that he could re-arrange anything he disturbed, he began to read the ledger first. It seemed like a legitimate ledger about household finances; perfectly mundane. Despite the plague, Ford paid high sums weekly for excellent liquor and other luxurious and superfluous goods like perfume. Everything one would expect of a woman in her positions; rich, shallow and eager to deny the plague and all its nasty consequences. The recently fired staff was also reported.   
The other papers seemed uninteresting as well. Most were about her late husband's business, correspondence with his lawyers and partners. There was one from a cousin, offering Ford a place to stay in Morley should she be able to circumvent the blockade. There was absolutely nothing personal in the whole room except for this one letter. 

He knew in his gut that Jessamine had been right, that Ford was far more than what she seemed. Daud looked, really looked and found a stash of audiograph cards in a locked cabinet. There was a safehouse in the same district and if the Whalers hadn't managed to break the audiograph inside like they had done with the one in the common room back in the headquarters (it was an accident and also pure coincidence that the event of it breaking down had been simultaneous with a dance party they had held in the same room) he could use that to listen to the cards in peace. Another sweep of the room failed to turn up with more he could use – her secrets seemed well-kept. He'd be disappointed if he were to rummage through the bedroom and find a detailed diary explaining her innermost thoughts. Before he did exactly that, Daud unlocked the door, hung the key back onto her belt, splashed a bit of whiskey from her glass on the ledger and wound her fingers around the glass.   
Afterwards he left through the window and checked the bedroom. His suspicions only grew. It was as if two people still lived in it – a cunning businessman and his trophy wife. But it seemed as if Ford was playing both parts. He'd have to look more closely into the business itself.

 

Daud left as he had come, undiscovered, unremarkable, one moment a man caught in a drizzle outside, rushing to his destination and was gone the next, hidden in the safehouse. The audiograph was still functional and after he had removed the Whalers' rendition of “Drunken Duchess” from the slot, he could finally listen to the first card. Apparently it was a secret recording of the late Ford's business partner, Jacob Hindemith, talking to the man's lawyer, discussing on how to dispose of the young widow, if she couldn't be persuaded to part with her shares. The talk was then interrupted with a gunshot and Ford's voice following it, explaining that she would rather kill every single person trying to rob her of what was hers. The other cards only cemented the evidence, showed that Ford was ruthless and ambitious, not afraid of violence and getting her hands dirty. But the existence of the cards also showed that she wasn't above blackmail. And the last card told the story of how Custis Pendleton had come to her with a proposition. Daud grinned. And as he remembered that the Pendleton brothers were literally the next names on Jessamine's list, he felt his admiration for the Empress grow. 

He returned to their headquarters and ordered Rinaldo to make copies of the cards before they were to be taken back – discreetly. Perkins had an hour left until her return, hopefully having at least one viable option for relocating.   
Daud ordered Dodge to be seen once – he stressed the word – near the shipyard. It's not unreasonable that he could contemplate infiltrating the palace through the watergate. 

In the end though, Perkins and Rulfio would have to wait. Galia informed him, out of breath, that a lantern had been placed at Ponderhill Gardens. Apparently the bodyguard had taken “within a day” quite literally and also shaved a few hours off the estimate. Daud had the feeling that this was the norm rather than the exception with the Lord Protector. The ship had set off in the morning and now it was not even 12 hours later. And already he had something to talk about. How intriguing.


End file.
